Chapter 2 2

The drive to her new house was short but unsettling. The dirt road leading to the property was bordered by towering pines, their branches forming an almost oppressive canopy that blocked out what little moonlight had broken through the clouds. The headlights of her car illuminated the narrow path, but the darkness beyond seemed alive, shifting with the wind and the faint rustle of leaves.

Amara gripped the steering wheel tightly, her earlier encounter with Lachlan replaying in her mind. There had been something in his voice-a warning wrapped in something more... primal. His gaze had lingered too long, his words too deliberate. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the unease creeping up her spine. He was probably just another small-town local trying to intimidate the new arrival.

The house came into view, its silhouette stark against the dense woods behind it. A single-story cabin with peeling paint and a sagging porch, it wasn't much to look at, but it was affordable. The landlord had called it "rustic." Amara called it "a fixer-upper."

She parked and stepped out into the cool night air. The rain had stopped entirely now, leaving the ground damp and the air heavy with the scent of wet pine. As she retrieved her bag from the trunk, the sound of a distant howl cut through the quiet.

She froze, her breath hitching. The sound wasn't close, but it was enough to send a shiver through her. Wolves weren't unheard of in the area-she'd read about them while researching Blackwood-but there was something about the howl that felt... wrong. It was too long, too mournful, carrying an almost human quality that made her chest tighten.

"It's just a wolf," she muttered to herself, slamming the trunk shut. "Nothing to be scared of."

But even as she said it, her pulse quickened, and she hurried up the porch steps.

Inside, the house smelled of old wood and damp air, but it was warm enough. She locked the door behind her, dropping her bag onto the worn couch in the living room. Boxes were stacked haphazardly in the corner, waiting to be unpacked. She flicked on a lamp, its dim light casting long shadows across the walls.

After making herself a cup of tea, she settled onto the couch and pulled out her laptop. She needed to prepare for her first day at the clinic tomorrow. But her thoughts kept drifting back to the diner, to Lachlan's strange intensity, to the townsfolk's lingering stares, and to that distant howl.

Her tea had gone cold by the time she shut the laptop. The rain had started again, a soft patter against the windows. She told herself she'd unpack tomorrow and headed to the bedroom.

It wasn't until she was lying in bed, the covers pulled tight around her, that she heard it again-the howl. This time, it was closer.

Amara sat up, her heart pounding. She strained to listen, her ears catching every creak of the house, every rustle of the wind. And then, just as she was beginning to convince herself it was her imagination, there was a sound at the window.

A faint scrape, like claws against glass.

Her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes locking onto the window. The curtains were drawn, but she could see the faint outline of something-something tall, something watching.

The scrape came again, louder this time, followed by a low, guttural growl.

Amara's mind raced. She'd left her phone on the couch. The front door was locked, but the back... she couldn't remember if she'd checked the back.

For what felt like an eternity, she stayed frozen, her pulse roaring in her ears. The growling stopped, replaced by silence so heavy it pressed against her chest.

And then, as suddenly as it had come, the presence at the window was gone.

Amara didn't sleep that night. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain and the wind and the distant howls that seemed to echo through the woods.

The next morning, the sunlight streaming through the windows did little to ease her nerves. She got ready in a daze, her hands trembling slightly as she poured herself a cup of coffee. The events of the night before felt like a bad dream, but the claw marks on the outside of her bedroom window were all too real.

When she arrived at the veterinary clinic, she was greeted by Dr. Calder, a middle-aged man with a kind smile and a tired face. The clinic was small but well-kept, nestled at the edge of town near the forest.

"Welcome to Blackwood," he said, shaking her hand. "I hope you're settling in alright."

"It's... a bit of an adjustment," she admitted, her voice shaky.

Dr. Calder chuckled. "You'll get used to it. The woods can be a little eerie at night, but they're beautiful during the day."

Amara nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't stop thinking about the scratches on her window-or the growl that had sounded anything but normal.

By mid-afternoon, she was immersed in her work, her nerves finally beginning to settle. She was examining a golden retriever with a paw injury when the clinic door chimed.

She looked up to see Lachlan standing in the doorway.

For a moment, he didn't move, his silver eyes locking onto hers.

"Thought I'd stop by," he said, his voice smooth but guarded. "Got a... favor to ask."

Amara swallowed, her hands tightening around the leash of the dog in front of her. "What kind of favor?"

He stepped closer, the faint scent of pine and rain clinging to him. "I need you to look at something. It's... urgent."

There was something in his tone-an edge that sent a shiver through her.

"What is it?" she asked, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Not here."

Amara blinked, caught off guard. "You want me to leave the clinic?"

"It can't wait," Lachlan said, his voice low. "And it's not something you want the whole town knowing about."

Against her better judgment, Amara found herself nodding. "Alright. Let me grab my bag."

As she followed him out of the clinic, her stomach churned with unease. She didn't know what she was walking into, but the look in Lachlan's eyes told her one thing: whatever it was, it would change everything.